


And In The Distance, Smoke

by joannabelle



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Crack, First Order Gossip Fodder, Hux hates meatloaf, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Ren really needs to sort out better shipping methods for his sex toys, but enjoys Scapegoat Mitaka, it's too late for this rubbish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joannabelle/pseuds/joannabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eavesdropping never leads anywhere good.  General Hux learns this lesson the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And In The Distance, Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> I'll show myself out.

General Hux had never been a big fan of rumours, specifically those of the sort which circulated on a large starship the size of the _Finalizer_.  
  
Rumours caused behavioural issues.  Inattention.  Non-regulation chatter.  _Reporting errors_.  They were easily started, sure, but by the time they had spread between departments in the First Order the original story seemed to amount to little more than hot smoke.  At least, this was Hux’s experience of the phenomenon as he progressed through his Academy days and then proceeded in securing himself the position of esteemed General of the First Order.  
  
No: rumours, he knew very well, were all just fiction.  
  
As he heard the two officers start whispering again behind him at the Lunch Room table, General Hux tried to remind himself of this fact.  
  
“No, no, Thanisson, I swear –” A Petty Officer was hissing from behind him, his voice carrying plain as day down the hall to where Hux sat, absorbed in the task of staring at his meatloaf.  
  
“There’s no way.  It’s not true.” Thanisson shot back, a little quieter.  Hux picked at the loaf, already well aware he was not going to end up consuming the thing before this conversation was over.  Who knew what it was made of; but at least the caf was decent.  He took another sip.  
  
“It is, Than, Meesa wouldn’t make this up.” The officer continued, “She told me to my face.”  
  
“I don’t believe it.”  
  
“Seriously! She said it was black, and long, and the head was shaped _just_ like Lord Vader’s mask –”  
  
Over his mug, Hux stilled.  Surely they were not –  
  
“But then why wouldn’t he get it personally couriered to him, huh?” Thanisson hissed, unaware of their General’s growing attention as he leaned closer to his lunch mate. “He’s not just an officer, he has clearance.  He can make demands.”  
  
“I dunno,” The officer seemed dismissive. “He’s – you know.  Weird.”  
  
“Hm.” Thanisson sounded unconvinced.  There was a pause.  Hux took another sip.  “… Yeah, I guess.  He _is_ a bit weird.”  
  
It was Ren, then.  Hux stirred his caf languidly with his spoon, feeling a bit brighter now that he was certain the officers were not talking about _him_.  Weird would do.  Weird only ever referred to one thing.  Hux was exceedingly normal.  
  
“A bit.” The officer scoffed.    
  
“But how, like … _why_ would he, though?  I just don’t understand.  Like, what’s the appeal?” Thanisson continued, oblivious to the fact they were being overheard.  
  
“It’s a kink, of course.” The officer replied, like it was obvious.  Hux sat down his mug, no longer bothering to pretend that he wasn’t just sitting there alone at lunch, listening to two of his best officers gossiping like the galaxy was ending.  “Yeah, it’s a definite kink.  I bet he’s into some really weird stuff.  Those reclusive types usually are.  I mean, have you ever seen him chat anyone up, Than?”  
  
“Well …”  Thanisson went silent, and there was a quiet swish.  Hux took a deliberate, steady gulp of his caf and did not turn around.  
  
“….Still, I bet he likes it unconventional. You know, like you remember that holovid Mitaka showed us that time with the Chiss and the Arcona - ?”  
  
“Oh. _Kriff_. Yes, okay? I remember it.  That still doesn’t explain – it’s just – isn’t he related, and – like, that’s abnormal.  Like, that’s not _normal_ man.  It’s not.”  
  
“Yeah, for sure, I know!  I bet he was, hm – _weaned_ wrong.”  
  
The image of a grown up Ren sucking madly on his mother’s tit suddenly popped into Hux’s head.  He let out a scoff, taking another giant gulp of his caf.  It took him a few seconds to realise his error.  
  
There was a clink, as the table behind him fell dead silent.   
  
Ah … oh.  Damn.  Hux shut his eyes in exasperation.   
  
So much for playing it cool.   
  
“Thannisson. Monroe.” Hux ground, forcing himself out of his seat to round on the officers, leaving his meal behind.  His poor caf; it was still half full.  He clasped his hands behind his back, and tried to regain some dignity.  
  
“Sir.” The men sung in unison.  There was a gentle squeaking sound echoing from across the room where a Stormtrooper sat still polishing his helmet, oblivious to the trio.  
  
Hux glanced back down at his officers with a scowl.  It would not do to let them think he had been doing anything other than deafly eating his meatloaf – that now sat behind him at the table, abandoned – lest his men get any funny ideas.  
  
He hesitated, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.  While Petty Officer Monroe had ducked back down to take another bite of his lunch, Lieutenant Thannisson was staring back up at him, unblinking.  Little shit.  
  
“... I will see you both back at your posts in 5 minutes.” Hux finished, dully.  “Carry on.”  He winced, and covered the expression with a sudden, half-hearted cough that he could see Thanisson not buying for a second.  Bloody Lieutenants, always so analytical; Mitaka was the right same.  
  
Swinging round and grabbing at his mug of caf, Hux strode off in what he hoped looked like an authoritative and un-rushed manner straight out of the Lunch Hall, nearly bumping into Ren on the way.  
  
From somewhere behind him, Thanisson shot Monroe a look.  
  


* * *

  
Every now and then a strange new rumour, however untrue, would begin to circulate; even on an otherwise highly regulation and professional ship like the _Finalizer_.  
  
And unfortunately, despite General Hux’s best efforts to keep ‘smack’ talk to a professional minimum, some rumours just _refused to die_.  
  
It seemed that despite Hux’s earlier misgivings, the whispers from the Lunch Hall had only grown in their momentum over the proceeding days, as was evidenced by his experience on evening Bridge shift the following week.  
  
“Shh, shh, keep your voice down, Tax, he’s close by.”  
  
From his position overlooking the Bridge, Hux froze.   
  
Not again.  
  
“Okay okay,” A rushed whisper hurried back. “Tell me though I’ve been waiting to hear more since we met in the hall.  What happened?”  
  
“Well.” The first voice started in, excited. “So I was heading back from delta shift through the back corridor, because Keon had called me earlier on my console.”  
  
“Oh, Keon. How is she?”  
  
“She’s good!  Taking her new role a bit hard but she’s in her first week, I told her, once she starts making friends it’ll all get easier to deal with.  If they like her she might even be able to talk her way into a transfer.  You know, on that good behaviour bond they offer.”  
  
“Yeah, Officer Tannar got one last year.”  
  
“Oh yeah, I remember him – weird nose right?”  
  
“That’s the one.”  
  
“Anyway, back to my story.  Well, I was walking through the corridor and I passed by Lord Ren coming the other way.”  
  
“Oh kriff, that never ends well.”  
  
“Yeah, right? Well, actually … I think he was in a bad mood.  Like always right?  Haha like you can tell through the mask – but whatever you know what I mean.”  
  
“Yeah yeah, I get you.”  
  
“Anyway.  He was carrying this weird bag thing, black of course.  Like he was heading somewhere, but then maybe he was heading out, he was going on the direction towards Hanger Eight but I wasn’t really paying attention.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“And then like, I heard him curse!  And I was like – kriff.  Because last time Mitaka heard Lord Ren shout he told me he got strangled and hung up in mid-air, and it was like, so intense –”  
  
“Oh yeah man, Mitaka has it rough.” Tax agreed.  
  
“Yeah and like.  Anyway.  Turns out he wasn’t even looking at me, he was rummaging through his bag thing, and he pulled out – he pulled out.”  
  
“What?  What was it?”  
  
“Well … I don’t really know.  But it was buzzing, and he seemed like real frantic to get it to stop, like he didn’t know how it worked or something.”  
  
“Maybe it was some strange ancient Jedi relic man!  You know how he’s always off on those stupid missions when he takes the TIE fighters and it pisses the General off –”  
  
“Shh.  He’s just – and yeah.  Maybe, I dunno.  This thing looked weird anyway, and it was black, and he caught me _looking_ at him dude.”  
  
“Oh kriff, did he?  What’d he do?”  
  
“Nothing, man!  Like I was expecting the worst.  I was ready to die, for the First Order y’know, and not even in battle but he just … he just kinda huffed and walked off real fast, like he was in a hurry.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“Yeah I dunno I thought it was weird.”  
  
“Yeah.  Huh.”  There was a pause.  “Well, you remember what Thanisson was saying the other day?  You know, about –”  
  
“ _Gentlemen_.” Hux deadpanned, stepping behind them.  Both officers jumped and quickly looked up from their station, catching sight of Hux and beginning to press buttons again as though they had been doing some actual work.  Hux wasn’t fooled.  
  
“Report.” He ordered.  
  
“Ah … ah, TIE fights all in position, Sir.” Petty Officer Lanester fumbled. “There’s a mechanical issue on Bay Nine with the maintenance crew are dealing with at the moment, uh. Expected … expected to complete …”  
  
“By 1300, Sir.” Tax supplied.  
  
Hux glared at them.  “Good.  Perhaps you should be monitoring that then instead of gas-bagging about your personal lives, then.  Need I remind you you are both on shift?”  
  
“… Yes, Sir.  Of course.”  
  
Hux sniffed.  _Petty Officers,_ he thought.  How unsurprising.  
  
He needed to have that chat with Leader Snoke about implementing more forced annual recondioning.  Yes.  This was getting out of hand.  Well, perhaps.   
  
He turned away, mind processing the new information.   
  
What the crap _was_ Ren doing, anyway?  What was black and long and buzzing –  
  


* * *

  
On the third occasion, Hux had about had enough.  
  
“ _Mitaka_!”  
  
The Lieutenant jumped, snapped rod straight in his seat and turned to face General Hux with a panicked salute.  
  
“Sir!  I ah – we were just –”  
  
“Discussing Lord Ren’s personal life, so I see.” Hux spat, unsure himself what he was so mad about it.  It was not like he cared about Ren, after all.  Ren was bloody annoying.  He probably did deserve to be insulted behind his back; he was a pain in Hux’s backside (not literally) and liked to break expensive _Finalizer_ equipment on a weekly basis.  It was terrible.  
  
Come to think of it, Hux did appreciate the effort his staff were going through to tarnish the Knight’s already questionable name.  However – however – the _Finalizer_ was a professional ship, and this kind of constant whispering was highly _non-regulation_.  Thank you very much.  
  
“Explain yourself.” He demanded, glaring at Mitaka like he should have glared at Monroe, and Thanisson.  And Lanester.  And Tax.  
  
Mitaka floundered, looking around desperately to Officer Morrow who was now studiously ignoring him, pretending he had not just been lending a very open ear.  “Sir …”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Well …”  
  
“Ah.  So it was nothing vital to the functioning of our fleet.”  
  
Mitaka flushed.  “No, Sir ..”  
  
“Nor our army.”  
  
“… No, Sir.”  
  
“Nor the security of First Order classified intelligence?” Hux prompted, hovering in Mitaka’s space just a few inches too close.  
  
Lieutenant Mitaka gulped.  “N-no, Sir.”  
  
“Very well.  The next time you have something to discuss regarding Lord Ren’s personal conduct on this ship, you come to me directly.  Understood?”  
  
“Yes, Sir.”  
  
“Good.” Hux ground, turning to face the rest of the crew who were not even pretending not to watch Mitaka take his dressing down with marked trepidation, and a few sympathetic glances.  “And that goes for the rest of you!” The crew jumped.  “Anyone who has any further comments on Lord Ren and his behaviour on board, unless it involves destroying Finalizer equipment or urgent orders, can come discuss the complaint with me personally, in my office.  I will hear no more of this unprofessional whispering aboard my starship, from Officer nor Troop.”  
  
He glared at each of them individually.  “We are a high functioning, important body of the Order and this kind of,” he waved a gloved hand, “ _social_ business is not acceptable.”  
  
Beside him, Lieutenant Mitaka’s face burned in shame, and Hux felt a hot wash of glee at the prospect of putting the officer in his place.  And also because it offered him an excellent opportunity to give another one of his magnificent impromptu speeches, of which he was rather fond – particularly those that involved some form of admonishment.  Or the stout refusal of acquiescing to disorder.  
  
Hux fought back a smirk at the undivided attention.  Ah yes; he could get used to this.  He flashed back to his presentation at the Starkiller launch – of all the Troopers staring up at him, silent and at attention.  Despite its lacklustre finish, Hux still felt the tell-tale flush of arousal that had hit him back then pool again in his groin.  
  
“Now,” He snapped, putting some extra emphasis on the syllable for effect. “Back to work.”  
  


* * *

  
He walked past Ren after that shift, on his way back to his office to fill out a misconduct form for Lieutenant Mitaka.  
  
The Knight looked agitated – but then again, Hux silently agreed, it was kriffing hard to tell with his stupid mask on – stomping down the hallway like he was the one paying for the repairs to the scuffed tilework.  
  
Hux grit his teeth.  
  
“Ren.” He nodded, as rudely as he could manage.  
  
“Hux.”  Ren did not even look at him.  
  
Well, fine.  Hux could play at that game.  
  
He decided not to ask what Ren was carrying in the bag, though he did notice the Knight was heading in the direction of the hangers just a little bit too late.  
  


* * *

  
It was a further week later before Hux gave up pretending.  Ren was gone on another mission, yet the rumours had only continued in his absence.  
  
Sitting up in bed that night, unable to sleep despite only being 5 hours away from his next shift on the Bridge, Hux was irritated to realise he was still itching with an unsatisfied curiosity to find out what the kriff it was that his staff has been whispering about for the last three weeks.  
  
Seriously.  Hux frowned.  It just made no sense.  
  
I mean, sure, he had got the impression that Ren had been sneaking around a bit more than usual.  But what could possibly be causing such a stir – so much so that his own officers couldn’t help themselves but gossip over the contents of Ren’s apparently ‘strange’ new equipment?  
  
And what was this about Lord _Vader_?  
  
Just – no.  It was all preposterous.  It was all just talk.  
  
Hux looked down at himself, into the shadow of his blankets – at his regulation black pyjama shirt and his regulation, single bed.  The clock next to him read 02:00.  
  
It … well.  Patrols _would_ be fairly thin at this time of the night, particularly near the end of the Finalizer where Ren’s rooms were located.  
  
And Ren was away, after all.  
  
Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have one little peek.  
  
For curiosity’s sake, was all.  
  


* * *

  
Hux cursed, and tried the next override code.  His long First Order embellished nightrobe skimmed against his bare ankles, as he shifted in the cold of the hallway.  
  
Trust Ren to be so paranoid he had changed his room settings.  
  
Hux tried the third code on his mental list – one set to allow access to any room in the event of a catastrophic explosive fire.  This one usually did the trick.  
  
The door buzzed open.  Blessed.  Hux scuffled inside before any Stormtrooper patrol passed by on their 30-minute round and got … well, the utter _wrong_ idea.  
  
“Lights to twenty percent.” He barked.  Ren’s room was tidier than expected; that was his first impression. He had expected on the short walk there to find himself standing in a bomb-site, or some sort of weird Vader shrine where the floor was covered in black cowl-necks and condom wrappers.  Or something.  
  
As it stood though the floor was neat and only three cowl-necks were slung across a very large double-king sized bed that sat at the corner of the room.  It was totally non-regulation, of course, and covered in some weird black silky sheets that looked far too comfortable to be allowed on board.  
  
Hux decided not to think about it.  
  
Instead, he headed straight for Ren’s ‘fresher.  Because, surely, if there was anything untoward and sexual of nature in these rooms it would find its rightful place on the top shelf of Ren’s ‘fresher cupboard, above the spare toothpaste.  
  
Clunking through a copious collection of Space Fuzz Satin Conditioner, For Sea Breeze Locks! which Ren appeared to collect by the dozen – but why? Hux asked himself, since Ren never took off his _damn mask_ – Hux found, much to his dissatisfaction, that on his top shelf Ren kept only hair products, a collection of strange-looking rubber bands, and for some reason … a discoloured, misshapen old toothbrush.  Nothing untoward as far as he could tell.  
  
Hux huffed and lowered himself from his tiptoes to search the rest of the ‘fresher, which turned out to be otherwise bereft of anything besides some regulation-issued bathing products.  
  
He growled, moving back out into the main room.  He decided to try the second most likely hiding place, and headed over to the thin cabinet which sat in reaching distance of Ren’s bed.  There was a tray of something black sitting on top of it where Ren had deposited the … melted remains of what looked like Darth Vader’s actual, personal face mask.  What.  
  
Maybe it was _that_ after all, Hux wondered.  Nothing sexual, just a mask that Ren kriffing probably bloody prayed to every night before crying himself to sleep in a puddle of his own ejaculate.  Frankly at this point, nothing would surprise him.  
  
Hux sighed, glaring at the mask in the low light of the room.  The mask glared back.  
  
“Lights, fifty percent.”  The room brightening, and he felt a bit better.  It was easier to see now too.  There were - … hang on.  Hux blinked, leaning further forward towards the cabinet from his position by the entrance of the ‘fresher.  What _was_ that?  
  
He stepped forward to get a closer look.   
  
“What … the kriff.” Hux breathed, blinking like an owl.  He darted out a finger, running it through the powder the mask sat in before bringing it, experimentally, to his lips.   
  
Yup.   
  
Human.   
  
“… Kriffing lunatic.”  
  
Of all the weird crap for Ren to have in his room he chose to sleep next to a distorted old mask and what looked like the charred remains of his enemies.  Hux scoffed, then dissolved into a fit of dainty sneezes as he breathed it all in.  
  
From behind him, there was a crash.  
  
“ _Kriff_!”  
  
Hux lost his footing.  From behind him, the door to the main entrance wrenched open.   
  
The noise sounded like someone had forced their way in with their bare hands, which made no sense, considering there was a perfectly functioning wall-lock unit right to the side of it – and – and –  
  
His elbow caught.  The tray of ash and what was probably Lord Vader’s face mask toppled to the floor, and Hux fell next – face first into the mess.  
  
“Kriffing _kriff_ what the kriff!” He swore, swinging around on his knees with his hand on his blaster, ready to show this intruder what was what in the world of Hux – only to see –  
  
“ _Ren_?!”  
  
Kylo Ren stood in the doorway, his mask under one arm and a scowl bent across his face.  
  
“Hux.” Ren replied, though it could have been ‘huh’ or ‘what’ for all he knew.  Hux’s hands were covered in black dust and sticking to the floor.  
  
“That’s my ash.” Ren added, as though Hux needed this confirmed.   
  
Hux scowled up at him, internally panicking, and pushed himself to his knees.  Typical Ren, standing there like he owned the place.  And yeah, well –  
  
Anyway.  
  
“What the kriffing heck are you doing here?” Hux accused, his face burning. “You’re supposed to be on a mission!”  
  
“What are you doing in my room?”  
  
Hux flushed.  “I wasn’t – what are _you_ doing keeping human _ashes_ in your room?!  What is wrong with you.”  
  
“How do you know they’re human?”  Ren was a menace even without the mask, stepping ever closer over Hux like a tower of greasy hair and overdramatic robes.  
  
“I tasted them, imbecile – what are you –”  
  
“You … tasted my ashes?”  
  
“They’re not _your_ ashes, Ren … I – Why are you _here_?”  
  
“You’re in my room.” Ren pointed out, his voice low, his footfalls slow.   
  
“I –” Hux paused, trying to think of a good reason why he was, in fact, in Ren’s room.  At 03:00.  With no decent excuse, except that Ren was supposed to be bloody gone – “I …”  
  
But then Ren, that bastard, stopped right above him, and looked him dead in the eye.  Hux could feel it – a weird _tickle_ of something running through his mind.  
  
“Stop it.”  
  
“I know what it is you were looking for.”  
  
“I – no, you don’t .. –”  
  
“Stand up, General.”  
  
“Now wait a minute, Ren –” Hux cut in, and he rose from his knees, suddenly filled with the feeling he had just made a very big mistake.   
  
Hux was beginning to realise he was being backed into the wall that separated Ren’s bedroom from the ‘fresher, effectively blocking his exit – and that Ren’s face had turned dangerous.  He stepped closer and soon Hux was pressed flat against the wall, with naught but a breath between them.   
  
“Ren –”  
  
“Stop talking.”   
  
The scent of Ren’s breath was curling through the air, and Hux tried very hard not to breathe, berating himself, internally.  Because really.  This was such a stupid way to die.  
  
“Now listen here –”  
  
“You thought you’d find something.” Ren cut in.  And then the bastard brought his fingers up, to run them along the parting of Hux’s hair. “Something you shouldn’t find … Something you shouldn’t know about.”   
  
His fingers caught, snagging upon a lock of Hux’s hair that had fallen loose in the kerfuffle.  “Something you were not _meant_ to see.” Ren sneered, all pointed teeth and gravel tongue.   
  
“I …” Hux was at a loss.   
  
“And did you find it?”  
  
No. _Yes_.  No – he found nothing, Hux realised – nothing.  There was nothing here but ash.   
  
He could hear someone panting, breaths huffing loud between the space – a staccato in his ears.  Possibly, probably, it was him.  Perhaps he had been wrong, all along –  
  
“Perhaps I took it with me.” Ren murmured. Ren was so close now that Hux could feel the brush of the Knight’s stupid woollen cowl-neck catch against the opening of his nightrobe.  It ground darker than the shadows that were pressed against his face, blacker than the furthest reaches of the sky.   
  
Any minute now, Ren would feel it – a twitch of traitorous arousal.  The soft nudge against his leggings.  
  
Hux was counted down the seconds to his own annihilation; and he knew he would implode.  He said nothing.  
  
“Or perhaps, I left it somewhere you would not find.” Ren continued. “Inside my mattress. Between my sheets?  Perhaps underneath my bed.” There was a hand – large, clawing – and it splayed across his thigh, squeezing at the flesh – so close.  So _kriffing_ close.  Hux was trembling.  
  
He clenched his jaw, forced himself to keep his eyes open.  To stare back up at Ren in defiance.  
  
“Or perhaps,” Ren breathed, his voice barely a whisper over Hux, breaths puffed on breath, a gust of hot air caressing at his skin, eyes locked and dark and deadly, “I’m wearing it right now.”  
  
“Kriff, Ren.” Hux breathed, his face impossibly red, his cock throbbing in his nightrobes, his life over.   
  
He was a paradox; frozen, yet disgustingly overwrought.  He was done for.  Dead.  Dying.   
  
_Gone_.    
  
He let out a groan, and reached forward to grab at Ren’s cowl-neck and close the distance –  
  
And then just like that, Ren was gone.   
  
Hux’s hands grasped at nothing but the air.   
  
He opened his eyes, lips parted, just in time to see Ren turn and stride off to the ‘fresher, in a swish of dark hair and fluttered robe.  
  
Wait.  No – … _what?  
  
_ He stood immobile, heart pounding.  
  
From somewhere not too far away there came the sound of clothing being shucked, and then the powering up of a sonic shower – the door to the fresher not quite closed up all the way.  The light peeked out through the gap, one small slit of sunshine that burned into Hux’s face, slicing him right between the eyes.  
  
He did not move.  He could not speak.   
  
He was flushed.  Gasping, painful hard, and slumped against a wall – but he was breathing.  Somehow, here, he was still, in fact, alive.  
  
From inside the fresher Hux heard a sigh, the uncapping of a bottle, and then the snapping of something … elastic.  
  
And he made a decision.  
  
In the tuffing of regulation slippers, he fled.  
  
This was, he thought – as he shuffled fast as his slippers would allow, bowling past a pair of shocked patrol troops outside Ren’s bedroom door – the last _bloody_ time he ever listened to a rumour.  
  
  



End file.
